Ride Rant for Santa
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No, I didn’t crash and burn or break 476 different parts and end up suffering the tender mercies of orthopedic surgeons and critical care nurses. Much much worse. WORK. An evil curse most riders have to deal with. And in the last two months I did not deal well enough to do much of anything beyond work, eat now and then, and sleep, sometimes. And no, I haven’t been sleeping well. Did I ride? Do birds fly? Did I ride enough? Do penguins fly? Finally, last Thursday, as my brain exploded and smoke poured out my ears and the inner scream going ride ridE riDE rIDE RIDE!!!!!!!!!, broke loose (shattering several roof tiles and scaring a number of small children and senior citizens — no fatalities, at least) I blew it off and went. You know that manic grin as your lips stretch all over your face and the bugs hit your teeth and the vibrations finally turn the daily tedium insanity into the inner laughter of a fast corner and a peg scraping and the ripping acceleration out into the straight before diving into the next turn, all concentrated and alive — ALIVE. Well, I needed it real bad. I got it. And yes, thank you very much, I feel much better. Now, about this Santa dude. I’ve been after that sob to bring me a job-free job for years. A pile of cash, gold, stocks, certificates of deposit - whatever, I’m not fussy as long as it gets me job free. But what happens, year after year? In a good year I get some socks. Most years I get some new debts to pay. I just don’t believe anymore. I’m fairly close to going on vacation here for my main job. Which just leaves me the non-main job. Which takes up more time than the main job. But since Santa won’t cooperate, I’m going to be busy also looking for some other way to make this mess actually work AND leave me time to ride and someday have enough money to get myself a new bike too. So just in case I don’t get back here - or forget - you all have some great holidays - ride safe and watch out for the crazies (on the road and in your head). Ride to live - Rick |
